


how you mix the two

by red0aktree



Series: where the light exists [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Asexual Character, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tattoo Artist!Steve, War Vet!Bucky, asexual!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red0aktree/pseuds/red0aktree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their meeting - and subsequent falling in love - the asexual owner of Brooklyn Tattoos and the battered-but-not-broken war vet who loves him tumble through their lives together. From panic attacks to Star Trek marathons and Led Zeppelin t-shirts, Steve and Bucky attempt to experience the world. </p><p>Series of ficlets following the events of 'never gonna find it (if you're looking for it)'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. October, 2013

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try and keep these short and sweet, updating as regularly as possible. The ficlets don't need to be read in any particular order, and are no linear.
> 
> Word of warning: I am /fairly/ familiar with the asexual mindset. That being said, I hope I don't offend anyone with any of the material in the story. If I do, please let me know!

Bucky’s skin was warm against Steve’s. His breath triggered goosebumps when it ghosted across Steve’s neck, Bucky’s nose tucked into the hollow of Steve’s jaw. They laid together on the couch, their chests pressed together, pinning Steve to the cushions. Steve’s eyes were glued to the television screen, paying close attention to a documentary on architecture. Or something. Bucky had stopped paying attention long ago in favor of memorizing the profile of Steve’s jaw, the curve of his lips.

“Is this even comfortable for you?” Bucky asked, dipping his head to nuzzle against Steve’s prominent collarbone.

“Hmm?” Steve’s gaze fluttered from the screen to Bucky, then back again.

“I’m completely smothering you,” Bucky explained, wrapping his arm tighter around Steve’s waist.

“I’m fine,” Steve answered, “You’re keeping me warm.”

“Glad I could be of assistance,” Bucky grumbled, pressed a soft kiss to the column of Steve’s throat.

“You aren’t even watching this, are you?” Steve asked, shifting slightly, prodding Bucky’s ribs just enough to make him squirm. Steve had found out, to his great pleasure, that Bucky was very ticklish.

“Nope,” Bucky pressed another kiss on Steve’s jaw, and then one to his lips. Steve made a discouraging noise, though he was smiling when Bucky pulled away.

“You know, if you paid attention you might actually learn something.”

“Don’t be a shit,” Bucky chided, pushing himself up on his arms, hands bracketing Steve’s ribs. He held himself over Steve for several moments, watching the smaller man.

“What?” Steve asked, squirming beneath Bucky’s gaze.  
  
Bucky didn’t answer. Instead he dipped down, capturing Steve’s lips again. Steve responded by cupping Bucky’s hips in his hands, and returning the kiss lazily. They were closed mouth kisses, gentle but not quite chaste.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, pulling away.

Steve made an unhappy noise, sitting up to recapture Bucky’s lips as he leaned away. Bucky spread his legs, settling himself on Steve’s laps, his knees on either side of Steve’s hips. Steve leaned back on his elbows, watching Bucky.

“I need to know what we’re doing. How far you’re willing to go,” Bucky gestured with his hands, gauging Steve’s reaction. Steve frowned, hunching his shoulders. His posture was defensive, but his eyes were sad.

“I thought you understood, Buck,” Steve’s voice was just above a whisper, “I don’t… I won’t sleep with you.”

“I know,” Bucky fretted, “Jesus, Steve, yeah, I know that. I’m not asking you to. I just… you kiss me and stuff. I don’t really know what that means. I don’t want to push you into anything, that’s all.”

Steve smiled, drinking in the sight of Bucky rubbing his neck in discomfort, looking anywhere but at Steve. Steve placed gentle hands on Bucky’s thighs, clad in soft cotton sweat pants.

“I like kissing you, Bucky,” Steve explained, “That doesn’t bother me. I don’t really like tongue stuff, though. Touching, for the most part, is okay too. But I’m not really comfortable with much more than that.”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded enthusiastically, finally meeting Steve’s eyes again, “Yeah, okay, I can work with that.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, “Can you?”

Bucky responded to the teasing as was to be imagined. With his lips pressed against Steve’s he let out a low growl, cupping Steve’s jaw. Steve let himself be kissed, enjoying the way Bucky’s mouth fit against his own, his body conforming to Steve’s as though it were made to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting a few more tonight. Also, if you guys want to leave me a prompt or something, go ahead and drop one in the comments, or send me an ask at my tumblr (red-0ak-tree.tumblr.com)


	2. January, 2014

Steve checked his phone in between meetings. He was at an invite-only conference upstate, one which he had only been asked to attend after a photo of one of his watercolor tattoos went viral. Since then, the shop had been steadily attracting more customers who would accept nothing less than Steve’s handiwork on their skin.

_From: Buck_  
 _Can you come home?_

_They had played this game a million different times. Any time one of them left the apartment -- or in some cases, the shop -- for any period of time, it turned into a texting battle of “Reasons Why You Should Never Leave Me”. Usually Steve adored playing. It made him feel loved._

_To: Buck_  
 _I can’t do this today babe. I’m really busy. Sorry. :(_

Steve checked the time stamp on the text as he hit send. He had received Bucky’s message almost twenty minutes ago. Just before he returned his phone to silent mode for the next conference, it vibrated in his fingers.

_From: Buck_  
 _Please steve. I need you here._

Steve frowned at the message. Something felt wrong. Usually Bucky would have responded with about twenty frowny emoticons and one heart, which Steve would tease him about when he returned home.

_To: Buck_  
 _Is everything okay???_

_From: Buck_  
 _No._

Steve was in a cab and shouting directions to the driver before anyone even had a chance to notice he was missing. His fingers trembling with the strength with which he was clutching his phone. He pressed it to his ear, waiting for the line to pick up.

“Hey,” Peggy greeted. “How’s the conference?”

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve gasped.

“Bucky?” Peggy sounded confused. “He left about an hour ago. Wasn’t looking too hot. Did you guys fight, or something?”

“No, of course not,” Steve’s heart ached. “Did he say why he was leaving?”

“Not really, just said he didn’t feel well,” Peggy spoke slowly. “Steve, is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Steve choked. “I will call you later.”

~

The apartment felt cold when Steve arrived, but that could have just been a manifestation of his own fear. He called Bucky’s name softly as he entered, dropping his bag to the floor. He didn’t need to wait for a response, however, as he quickly spotting Bucky on the couch, curled in on himself.

Steve crossed the room in large strides, catching Bucky’s face in his delicate hands. “Sweetheart,” he breathed, stroking warm tears from Bucky’s soft cheeks.

“I didn’t want you to -- to have to come home,” Bucky stuttered, his words trapped in his throat. Steve shook his head, shifting to position himself on the couch beside Bucky, their thighs pressed together. Steve didn’t take his hands away from Bucky’s face. Bucky’s fingers found their way to Steve’s shirt, where they clutched at the fabric frantically.

“It’s okay Buck,” Steve murmured, stroking his fingers through Bucky’s hair, brushing it away from his face. “I’d rather be here.”

Bucky nodded, but didn’t say anything. His watery blue eyes stayed locked on Steve, clutching him close. Steve shifted again, pulling Bucky in tight against his chest, letting Bucky tuck his face in against Steve’s neck. Bucky was shaking with each hitched breath, and Steve let out a soft sigh.

“It’s alright, Buck, it’s okay,” Steve’s voice was soft, and seemed to calm Bucky down just a bit. It was a start, at least. Bucky’s tears fell silently as he pressed himself closer to Steve. Thin arms encompassed Bucky’s shuddering back without a word. They were both silent. Steve didn’t know what to say, and all Bucky wanted was to be able to _fucking breathe again._  
  
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Steve asked after what felt like forever. Bucky hadn’t completely calmed down yet, still tucked up beneath Steve’s chin. Steve was so drastically smaller than Bucky that the position felt completely off, yet so terribly right.

“If I understood it myself, I might,” Bucky whispered back, his voice stronger than before. Steve just nodded. “I started to think. About everything. And I tried to stop before it became too much. But I guess I wasn’t very good at it.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Steve stroked long fingers along the back of Bucky’s neck, massaging the tension there.

“You don’t have to be. It’s not your job to be here when I freak out,” Bucky laughed coldly.

“Yeah, it is,” Steve breathed, hugging Bucky closer. “That’s exactly what my job is, Buck. You’re my fella.”

Bucky tipped his head back a bit to meet Steve’s eyes. His smile looked broken as it was contrasted against the tears on his cheeks.

“I think I like ‘sweetheart’ better.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve nudged his nose against Bucky’s. “My sweetheart, huh?”

“Just not in public,” Bucky grumbled, still sounding a bit shaken. “But yeah.”

“Alright,” Steve smiled mischievously, easing them back against the couch, still intertwined. “Well then, maybe you should rest, _sweetheart_.”

Bucky huffed, but nodded all the same. He cuddled close to Steve, and wished the world would stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a prompt if you so desire!


	3. July, 2014

Bucky shifted in his sleep. Steve was awake--due to a cause which was becoming ever more apparent--but pretended he wasn't. Bucky shifted again, and then rolled onto his back. He was still for a moment before letting out a sigh and flipping over again, face pressed into Steve’s pillow.

“Stop. Moving.” Steve’s voice was thick with sleep, but he sounded only slightly annoyed.

“I can’t get comfortable,” Bucky whined, rolling to face Steve. “It’s too hot in here.”

“That’s because I’m here,” Steve said with a sleep-hazed snort. Both men hesitated for a moment before erupting in giggles.

“That was terrible, Steve,” Bucky grinned. Steve peeled one eye open, fixing it on Bucky in the dim light. Bucky’s hair was sleep mussed, his eyes bright in the darkness. Steve smiled, and Bucky followed suit.

“Go to sleep, Buck,” Steve said warmly, stretching his hand out across the sheets, wrapping nimble fingers around Bucky’s wrist. Bucky sighed and buried his face in the pillow again, letting out an agitated groan.

“Fine,” Bucky said finally, after Steve had closed his eyes again. “Just let me turn the AC on or something.”

Bucky wrestled his wrist free of Steve’s sleepy grip, climbing from the bed. He took a couple of minutes to fumble through the dark apartment, turning the air conditioning on high and getting a drink of water, before returning to the room. As he stood at the edge of the bed, he watched just for a moment more than he should have.

Steve opened his eyes again, eyeing Bucky from a pile of blankets, half his face hidden by the plush of the pillow. They watched each other with stupid, awestruck grins. Steve untangled one hand from the blankets, reaching out to Bucky with wiggling fingers. Bucky set his glass on the bedside table and joined Steve in the bed.

“Let’s go to bed, hotshot,” Steve cooed, intertwining his fingers in Bucky’s.

“Hotshot?” Bucky snorted.

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Buck. It’s way too late for you to be expecting anything intelligent out of me.” Steve shrugged, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he closed his eyes.

“Technically, it’s early,” Bucky whispered, brushing his lips across Steve’s pierced brow, nuzzling into Steve’s hair gently.

“Fuck off,” Steve murmured tenderly. He was asleep before Bucky could ever think about responding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPTS PROMPTS PROMPTS. SEND ME PROMPTS.


	4. October, 2013

“Hey, that’s my shirt!” Clint frowned, narrowing his eyes at the Led Zeppelin logo across Steve’s chest. Steve glanced down, shrugging.

“No, it’s Bucky’s.”

“ _No_ , it’s mine,” Cling mimicked, leaning across the table to tug at the neckline.

“Clint, what the fuck? Stop,” Steve whined, trying to wrench free of Clint’s prodding hands.

“There’s a rip where the tag used to be,” Clint explained, grinning in triumph as he found the tiny tear. “See, told you. Totally my shirt.”

“Jesus,” Steve huffed, finally freeing himself from Clint’s grasp. “Are you trying to rip it off my back or something? Fuck.”

“Why are you wearing Bucky’s shirt?” Clint asked, leaning back in the booth. They were seated in a dingy bar, waiting on Bucky and Natasha to arrive with their drinks. The bar was quiet enough that Bucky didn’t get overwhelmed. It was close enough to the apartment that they could easily make a quick escape though, if necessary.

“Who’s wearing my shirt?” Bucky asked, sliding into the seat beside Steve. Steve took the foamy drink he offered, sipping the top. Natasha took her seat beside Clint, watching in curiousity.

“Me,” Steve answered, smoothing out the fabric on his chest. The shirt was very obviously too large for him, almost completely swamping him.

“Oh yeah, that is my shirt, isn’t it?” Bucky laughed, tossing back a quick gulp of his beer. “Wait, actually, I think that might be Clint’s.”

“It _is_ mine,” Clint triumphed, “I fucking told you Steve!”

“I never denied that it could be yours, fucking hell Clint,” Steve threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Why is he wearing your clothes?” Natasha asked Bucky, ignoring the minor argument between the other two.

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugged. They hadn’t yet told Clint and Natasha that they were an item, though they didn’t exactly hide it, either. “I’m wearing his socks, so I guess it’s kind of fair.”

Natasha and Clint exchanged a quick glance. Natasha shrugged and buried her face behind her beer mug. Clint smirked. Natasha was far too intelligent -- and Clint far too perceptive -- to not know what the clothes sharing meant.

Steve and Bucky exchanged glances, as well. They were, in turn, also smart enough to know that there was no way Natasha and Clint had misinterpreted the signs.

Conversation resumed between the two couples, and though nobody said a word about it, it was generally acceptable from that moment forward the Steve and Bucky were much more than just roommates.


	5. December, 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who said they were a sucker for sick!fics. Sorry it took so long. 
> 
> Also, I changed the format for text messages a bit from the previous chapters. I will probably go back and change that later but ehhh... who knows. Anyway, now the names are what the receiver of the message has the number programmed into their phone as. Hope that makes sense.
> 
> EDIT 5/25/2015: As much as I love this AU, it has come a time for the end. There won't be any more chapters. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did.

“What are you doing up so early?” Steve grumbled, his voice sleep wrecked. He rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Bucky shrug, his back turned toward Steve as he made coffee in their tiny kitchen.

The sun was still rising outside their windows, low and hazy in the sky. Steve took a seat at the island counter, watching Bucky.

“You coming in to the shop today?” Steve asked, yawning.

“Don’t think so,” Bucky answered, turning around. He was sleep rumpled, looking warm and soft in pajama bottoms and a worn BioShock t-shirt. His voice sounded thick with congestion and Steve grimaced. Bucky had been fighting off an oncoming cold for the past few days, and it just didn’t seem to be willing to be defeated.

“Feeling sick?” Steve asked. Bucky nodded before sucking in a muddled breath through his nose, the action making a horrible wet noise. Bucky frowned, looking exhausted.

Steve stood from the counter, pressing a warm hand to Bucky’s hip as he leaned passed him, reaching up to the top shelf of their random-items cupboard. Bucky watched the blond teeter on his tippy-toes, his whole body stretching to reach whatever he was getting. He covered Steve’s hand against his hip with his own.

“Take these,” Steve said, setting a box of cold medicine capsules on the counter, “And don’t drink this,” Steve pushed the coffee maker further back on the counter.

“Okay,” Bucky said, still sounding rough.

“I’m going to take a shower and get down to the shop. Text me if you need me, okay? I can rearrange appointments if you want me here,” Steve said, running his thumb over the jut of Bucky’s hipbone where his hand still rested.

“It’s okay,” Bucky smiled as Steve pressed a quick kiss to his cheekbone before pouring himself a cup of the coffee Bucky had made (but was forbidden to drink) and sleepily made his way to the bathroom.

Before Steve left for the day he made Bucky a cup of tea, laden with honey and cream, and deposited it on their bedside table. Bucky was curled up under the blankets, breathing heavily through his mouth. Steve pressed another kiss to the crown of his head, and smiled as Bucky fixed him with a one eyed glare.

~

“Where’s your boy?” Tony asked, leaning against the counter as Steve adjusted the studs on display behind the glass case. Steve was between clients at the moment, chatting with Tony who, as it seemed, just wandered the streets in search of somebody to bother.

“He’s not feeling well,” Steve answered, inspecting a silver plug.

“You left him home sick?”

“What else was I supposed to do with him?” Steve laughed, “It’s just a cold.”

“Damn, Rogers, I always thought of you as more of a mother-hen type than that,” Tony snatched a flyer from the counter, folding it against the glass.

“He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you wish you were home taking care of him, though.” Tony had a self satisfied smirk on his face when Steve tipped his head up to glare. Tony pulled his lips back from his shark-like teeth in a sinister grin.

“I have obligations. Unlike somebody I know,” Steve stood and closed the case, stripping the rubber gloves from his delicate fingers. “Don’t you have a job Tony? Or, I don’t fucking know, somewhere to be?”

“Nope,” Tony shrugged, “Looks like I’m yours for the day, princess.”

“God give me strength.”

Tony flicked the flyer through the air, watching proudly as his paper airplane sailed across the store.

~

Dollface [12:45PM]: Be glad you aren’t here. Tony decided to stop by.

Buck [12:59PM]: I would take stark over this any day.

Dollface [1:03PM]: It must be serious then because Tony is absolutely awful today.

Buck [1:06PM]: It is. :(

Dollface [1:08PM]: I’ll be home soon. Try and sleep, sweetheart.

Buck [1:08PM]: I am. Thanks.

~

“If I were you, which I mean, obviously I’m not, but hypothetically, if I were you I would probably go with something a little more traditional. I mean, you’re a big guy. I think that tattoo is a little too, I don’t know, delicate? Try a dragon, buddy,” Tony said, holding Steve at arms length so he couldn’t cover his mouth. Or punch him the face.

The man standing at the counter, tattoo design in hand, frowned at Tony. He couldn’t have been shorter than 6’ 2”, which biceps the size of Tony’s head. He could have easily crushed Tony if he felt like it, and Steve probably wouldn’t have stopped him.

Somewhere in the shop, Peggy chuckled. Even without seeing the man, she knew Tony was about to get punched.

“Sorry, could you give me a second?” Steve asked the man, who nodded, confused. Steve smiled politely, before turning to Tony. “Back room. Now.”

Tony frowned, and trudged toward the break room, head hung low. Tony might have been an ungrateful, annoying little shit, but he knew when he had crossed a line.

“You have no right to talk to my clients. None,” Steve began calmly. “I don’t care what you think about their designs. They are theirs, and they chose them for a reason. I need you to leave. Right now. Please, I beg you, do not return.”

Tony didn’t say a word, just nodded with wide eyes and a downtrodden expression. He left the shop without another word. Steve apologized exhaustively to the man at the counter, and thanked God that he was an understanding type.

~

It was close to closing when Peggy made an aborted snorting sound, pointing toward the entrance. Steve ignored it, focussing on wrapping up his final appointment of the night, scheduling a follow up with a small red-headed woman with a dragonfly across her shoulders. He was eager to finish, desperately wanting to get home to Bucky.

As he began putting away the supplies, Peggy draped herself across his workspace. Steve frowned at her.

“Somebody’s here to see you,” she smirked, almost seductively. Steve’s heart pounded at the thought of seeing Bucky.

Steve straightened, turning excitedly, a warning for leaving the house while sick already half formed on his lips. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he spotted Tony standing at the counter, not Bucky.

“Fuck,” Steve muttered, walking to the counter. Peggy finished sterilizing the area, watching the scene play out in front of her.

“Okay, don’t say anything. This isn’t an apology, okay? I don’t apologise,” Tony waved his hands as he spoke. “So don’t go telling everyone that you yelled at me and so I brought you presents okay? Because it didn’t happen. I bought this shit because I know your broke ass wouldn’t. It’s for him, anyway, not you.”

Steve blinked, watching in silent amazement as Tony finally drew in a deep breath. He reached down to the bags beside his feet, placing them on the counter.

“So fine. There. Bye.”

And with that Tony was gone as fast as he’d arrived, sweeping out of the shop with his usual air of arrogance.

Steve peeked inside the bags, shuffling through more cold medicine than he would have ever been able to afford, alongside a wide arrangement of juices and teas, cans of soup, and even a tub of vanilla ice cream collecting condensation, complete with toppings galore.

“Wow,” Peggy whistled, eyeing the bags.

“I’m not paying him back for this,” Steve frowned, “He owed me.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Rogers.”

~

Bucky was asleep when Steve arrived, sprawled across the bed and breathing raggedly. Steve fussed with the blankets for a moment, pressing a hand to Bucky’s forehead to check for fever before returning to the kitchen to unpack the bags Tony had given him.

Steve didn’t react to the familiar sound of soft footsteps across the kitchen floor. Bucky took a seat at the counter and sniffed loudly. Steve ripped open one of the the new packages of cold medicine, taking out the tiny pills. He slid them across the counter to Bucky. They were much better quality than the ones he had given Bucky in the morning, and Bucky raised an eyebrow as he pinched them between his fingers.

“Stark,” Steve said by way of an answer, passing Bucky a blue Gatorade. Bucky snapped open the cap and took the pills. “Hungry?”

Bucky shrugged. His nose was rimmed red and dripping, and his mouth hung open just wide enough for him to breathe through supple lips. Steve leaned across the counter to cup Bucky’s cheek in his palm gently.

“Go lay back down, baby,” Steve cooed. Bucky frowned, tilting his head sideways to lean into Steve’s touch.

“I’ve been sleeping all day, though,” Bucky complained. Steve sighed, but compromised.

“Couch, then. We’ll watch a movie, okay?”

Bucky nodded and pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s palm before following Steve’s request and settling into the couch. Steve warmed up a few cans of the soup Tony had bought. Bucky's breathing was ragged with loud snuffles, and Steve would have thought he was doing it on purpose except for the fact that he looked so absolutely miserable.

With two steaming bowls clasped in his hands, Steve settled himself down next to Bucky. Bucky took the offered bowl, curling up around it and enjoying its warmth. Steve sipped his own and searched for the remote with one hand.

“There’s not really a better way to handle being sick than watching a movie, yeah?” Steve nudged Bucky’s ribs with his elbow. Bucky grunted apathetically.

Steve watched Bucky for a moment, studying the way he lifted the spoon to his lips listlessly. His eyebrows knit together in a sympathetic frown, feeling sorry for the shivering man beside him.

On the way back to the couch from the sink where Steve had placed their now-empty bowls, Steve slipped into the bedroom, stripping the blankets from his bed and grabbing the tissue box that sat on the bedside table. Back in the living room, Steve deposited the the blankets on Bucky’s hunched form and snuggled down beside him.

Bucky watched as Steve flipped through Netflix, settling finally on the ultimate sick-day movie.

“Breakfast Club?” Bucky asked, burrowing warmly into Steve’s side.

“Don’t even try and tell me no, princess,” Steve teased, stroking his fingers through Bucky’s slightly greasy hair.

Bucky sniffed loudly as a response. Steve grimaced.  

Bucky was asleep on Steve’s shoulder halfway through the movie. Steve didn’t move a touch. 


End file.
